


A Pasta Game

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, BDSM, I am so sorry you are reading this ridiculousness, M/M, Punishment, Spanking, fingering and pasta, those are some words I never thought I'd type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Stiles has been in a bratty mood lately. A lot of the time, Peter will indulge him, but Stiles tries to rein it in because he knows that at times it can truly irritate the other man. He may have taken it a tad too far when he interrupted Peter’s conference call by walking into the room wearing nothing but his underwear. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but he’d known Peter’s call was very important, and he’d already been a bit of a brat all day. So Peter had given him a look and he’d known he’d stepped in it.That’s how he got where he is now, naked, on his knees in front of the couch. Stiles shifts uncomfortably, trying not to jostle the large plug inside of him. His thighs are starting to burn a little from being in the same position for so long, but he stays where he is. Peter hasn’t said he can move yet.Or...I have no excuses. This is just garbage smut involving Peter, Stiles, spankings, and pasta.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm blaming [alternativename](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alternativename/pseuds/alternativename) and [Julibean19](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Julibean19) for this. I am so, so sorry. Because we got onto pasta and sex and...ya know. Shit happens. I am so sorry this is so ridiculous.

Stiles has been in a bratty mood lately. A lot of the time, Peter will indulge him, but Stiles tries to rein it in because he knows that at times it can truly irritate the other man. He may have taken it a tad too far when he interrupted Peter’s conference call by walking into the room wearing nothing but his underwear. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but he’d known Peter’s call was very important, and he’d already been a bit of a brat all day. So Peter had given him a look and he’d known he’d stepped in it.

That’s how he got where he is now, naked, on his knees in front of the couch. Stiles shifts uncomfortably, trying not to jostle the large plug inside of him. His thighs are starting to burn a little from being in the same position for so long, but he stays where he is. Peter hasn’t said he can move yet.

There are light sounds coming from the kitchen then a few seconds later, Stiles can hear Peter’s soft footsteps. He knows he can only hear him coming because Peter lets him, and he appreciates it. Peter sits on the couch in front of Stiles, his face impassive, with a bowl in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Stiles doesn’t look at either, just looks at Peter’s face.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Peter asks. His voice is neutral, like he’s asking about the weather.

“Yes,” Stiles says quietly. “I broke a rule.”

“And what rule is that?” Peter asks.

“Not to interrupt you when you’re on dealing with your business,” Stiles says.

“That’s right,” Peter says. “What’s your safeword?”

“Red,” Stiles says.

“Good boy. As usual, you say ‘red’ and everything stops, okay?” Peter says.

“Okay,” Stiles says.

“Good. Turn around, on all fours,” Peter says.

Stiles turns and leans over until he’s on his hands and knees, exposing his ass and the base of the plug to Peter. He can see himself in the reflection of the apartment’s window and for some reason that makes him blush. Maybe it’s because yesterday they’d fucked against the same window. For a long minute, nothing happens. He keeps tensing, waiting for a spank that he knows it coming, but still, nothing. Stiles glances over his shoulder and his jaw nearly drops. Peter’s eating his divine fettuccine alfredo and paging through a HGTV magazine, not even looking at Stiles. As if sensing Stiles’ eyes, Peter looks up and quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, Stiles?” Peter asks.

“You’re not going to do anything?” Stiles blurts out.

Peter’s grin turns wicked and Stiles wishes he’d just kept his mouth shut.

“So eager for your punishment?” Peter asks.

“No,” Stiles says quickly.

“Mmhmm. Eyes forward,” Peter says.

Stiles obeys, facing the window again. The soft clinking of Peter’s fork in his bowl goes on for a few more minutes. Peter ignoring him lulls him into a false sense of security so when there’s a touch to the left side of his ass, Stiles jerks in shock. Before Peter can reprimand him, he stills again. Peter’s palm sweeps over her ass cheek, then over the right before the first blow hits. Stiles is expecting the stinging slap of pain and he manages not to cry out or clench down on the plug too much.

Stiles isn’t expecting for Peter to tug at the plug, wiggle it back and forth before pushing it back in, almost ramming it into Stiles. He doesn’t gasp, but it’s close. Then Peter’s twisting the plug, tugging it a bit and easing it out and dropping it to the side. Stiles is about to ask why, but then Peter’s slipping a finger into him and he decides he doesn’t care.

Peter very deliberately avoids Stiles’ prostate, only brushing a finger over it once in a while. He would almost think it's accidental, but Stiles knows Peter and nothing he does is on accident. Peter adds another finger, stretching Stiles more and brushing against his prostate more firmly.

“Ah ah,” Peter says when Stiles whines and jerks his hips. “You need to stay completely still for me.”

“Sorry,” Stiles says. 

Peter’s moving his hand faster now and – yep, that’s a third finger squeezing its way into Stiles’ hole. It’s so hard not to move, pleasure is shooting through his body, Peter’s fingers now consistently brushing his prostate with each stroke. Stiles’ cock is hanging hard between his legs and fuck, is this supposed to be a punishment? Stiles is about to open his mouth to ask, but then he hears the clinking again. And…is Peter _still eating?_

Stiles glances over his shoulder and yep, Peter takes a bite of fettuccine, as blasé as possible, while he has three fingers buried in Stiles’ ass. His magazine is even still open in his lap. Stiles looks at him incredulously.

“Yes?” Peter asks.

“I – oh!”

Peter presses harder against Stiles’ prostate right when he goes to speak.

“We’re going to play a bit of a game here, sweetheart,” Peter says. He places the half-full bowl on Stiles’ lower back and Stiles goes completely still. It’s warm, but not hot enough that it’s hurting his skin. “If this bowl stays where it is until I am finished eating, you get ten spankings for your punishment. If it falls, or if I catch it when it’s about to fall, you get the ten, then an additional spanking for each noodle left in the bowl.” 

“But you’re the slowest eater on the planet!” Stiles says.

“I like to take the time to enjoy my food rather than scarf it down,” Peter says. “It just means you’re going to have to be sure not to move, doesn’t it? Color?”

“Green,” Stiles mumbles. 

It’s inventive, even for Peter. It’s simple in theory, don’t move for ten minutes or however long it takes Peter to finish eating. But Peter never plays fair. 

Sure enough, Peter’s left hand moves again, his fingers sliding in an out of Stiles’ ass. Stiles’ hips jerk in surprise and the bowl shifts.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Peter says. 

Stiles hears the clinking sound of Peter’s fork and hopes he’s taking actual bites, not just eating one noodle at a time. Then Peter’s massaging Stiles’ prostate and all thoughts of fettuccine fly from Stiles’ mind. All he can think of is to be still. He wants to push back against Peter’s hand, to get him in deeper, or to drop to his chest and present his ass for Peter to fuck. But he can’t, fuck, because of that stupid fucking bowl.

Peter’s just sadistic, this is terrible. Stiles is panting because of course Peter knows exactly how to take Stiles apart after almost a year together, and is using all of his knowledge for evil. A certain twist makes Stiles’ leg jerk. A few short, finger fucking jabs make Stiles keen and almost lose his balance. Stiles arches his back into Peter’s ministrations and almost tumbles the bowl over completely, but manages to correct himself in time.

When Peter adds the fourth finger, Stiles thinks he’s going to die. Stiles' head drops down, hanging between his shoulders because it's too hard to keep it up. He’s so full and Peter’s pounding his prostate now. Peter never said he couldn’t come, but that doesn’t seem like it’s allowed. Isn’t this a punishment? He’s making a high whining noise and can barely hear the sound of Peter’s silverware, but it’s there. Stiles starts clenching around Peter’s fingers, his body coiling tight, ready for release.

“You can come if you want, love,” Peter says, then adds, “That is, if you can do it while keeping still.”

And that right there, that’s a problem! Stiles is never still when he comes. He thrashes, or shakes, or twitches, something! But he can’t hold back, his orgasm is coming and nothing he can do will hold it back. Peter deliberately rubs the pads of his fingers over Stiles’ prostate, his four digits stretching Stiles’ hole wide, and that’s it. Stiles wails Peter’s name and comes untouched, his cock shooting white all over the hardwood floor. His arms and legs are shaking and he wants to collapse and let the pleasure take its course, but he can’t do that, it’s a game, he can’t... 

The weight of the bowl is lifted from Stiles’ lower back and he sags in relief. He doesn’t know if he's succeeded or it Peter caught it before it fell, but whatever the reason, it’s gone.

“Good boy,” Peter says approvingly. “You didn’t spill any. So how many spankings is that?”

“T-ten,” Stiles stutters. 

“That’s right. Count for me,” Peter says and his hand slaps across Stiles’ ass.

“One.”

Peter’s hand smooths over the warm skin, kneading the flesh, before drawing back and striking again.

“Two.”

Three, four, and five come in a quick succession of fast hits, leaving Stiles breathless. His pain and pleasure sensors have always been a little crossed, and the afterglow of his orgasm paired with the stinging of the spankings have his dick trying valiantly to get hard again. Six and seven are on his upper thighs, making him rock forward.

“Eight!” Stiles shouts. The eighth hit is hard, and will definitely bruise. Stiles loves it.

“So good,” Peter murmurs. “You’re almost done, sweetheart.”

Peter’s hand is lightning fast for the next strike, hitting the same spot as the eighth hit and making Stiles nearly sob.

“N-nine!”

“Good boy, just one more,” Peter says.

He rubs his hand over Stiles’ ass, down his stinging thighs, caressing the red hot skin. Stiles is sure he has imprints of Peter’s hand on his flesh. He’s also sure that Peter loves it. He’s distracted by Peter’s one hand that he forgets about the second until it’s landing a hard slap on his ass.

“Ten!” Stiles says and nearly collapses in relief. 

Peter’s there though, and scoops Stiles right up into his arms. Peter runs his hands over Stiles’ skin and presses kisses against the boy’s temples. He murmurs reassuring words, telling Stiles how good he is, how well he took his punishment. How much he loves Stiles. Stiles snuggles in closer and lets Peter rub a soothing hand over his stinging ass. Peter reaches for the water bottle he'd brought in earlier and makes Stiles take slow drinks.

“I’m sorry I broke the rules,” Stiles murmurs into Peter’s chest.

“I know, baby. It’s okay, it’s forgiven,” Peter says. “You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

They stay like that for a while, Stiles wrapped up in Peter’s arms, until he’s calmed down and need to stand up to stretch out his body. Peter lets him, eyeing his handiwork on Stiles’ red and probably purple ass. Stiles glances over to the coffee table and sees Peter’s empty bowl there and laughs.

“That was a weird game, dude.”

Peter laughs.

“I know. To be fair, last week we ordered a knotting dildo. This is by far not the strangest thing we’ve done in the bedroom,” Peter says.

“Tou-fucking-ché.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my [ main blog](http://www.femmmefatalist.tumblr.com).


End file.
